


Payback

by mechahotwings



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: A bit of an OC but not really, Blue Balls, Bondage, F/M, Hate Sex, Orgasm Denial, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader is a terrible person, Reader is dominant, Reader replaces game protagonist, Reader-Insert, Revenge, Second chapter is consensual, Self-Indulgent, Smut, Team Rocket Grunt is named, Violence, dub-con, non-con turning into dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-04 14:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6663259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechahotwings/pseuds/mechahotwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What you didn't expect was for one of the Team Rocket grunts at Pokémon Tower to beat you. He didn't beat you in a battle. You wiped the floor with him and didn't even break a sweat. Looking back upon the incident, you supposed that it did make sense that a member of a criminal organization would be a sore loser and take a few swings at you. One of his fists slammed against your face, sending you reeling backwards and another blow to the stomach left you short of breath, gasping and on your knees. </p><p>“You fucking bitch.” He hissed, his dark eyes narrowing at you. The brim of his hat made the shadows under his eyes look more pronounced. There was a sneer on his lips. </p><p>“What's the matter?” You wheezed, trying to sound dignified despite your position on the floor, cradling your stomach. “Angry you were too weak to fight against a little pikachu?”  A mirthless smile curled your lips just before a savage kick to the chest knocked you to the floor. You laid there as he practically strutted away, giving you a kick to the ribs before he left for good measure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is really, really self indulgent. I wanted to write some mindless smut with a bit of violence mixed in so I could get some frustration out. I may delete this later. I haven't decided.

What you didn't expect was for one of the Team Rocket grunts at Pokémon Tower to beat you. He didn't beat you in a battle. You wiped the floor with him and didn't even break a sweat. Looking back upon the incident, you supposed that it did make sense that a member of a criminal organization would be a sore loser and take a few swings at you. One of his fists slammed against your face, sending you reeling backwards and another blow to the stomach left you short of breath, gasping and on your knees. 

“You fucking _bitch_.” He hissed, his dark eyes narrowing at you. The brim of his hat made the shadows under his eyes look more pronounced. There was a sneer on his lips. 

“What's the matter?” You wheezed, trying to sound dignified despite your position on the floor, cradling your stomach. “Angry you were too weak to fight against a little pikachu?” A mirthless smile curled your lips just before a savage kick to the chest knocked you to the floor. You laid there as he practically strutted away, giving you a kick to the ribs before he left for good measure. 

Mr. Fuji rushed over to help you. In all of the commotion, you had almost forgotten he was there. You had told him to stay back as you battled the Team Rocket members. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, lifting you to a sitting position by pulling up on your armpits. Mr. Fuji crouched down in front of you and cradled your face in his hand, studying the bruises that were forming around your eye. You could feel it swelling closed already. 

“I'm ok. He didn't break anything, I think.”

“Let's go get you patched up. You drove Team Rocket out of here and calmed the marowak spirit, so having you stay with me for a while is the least I can do.”

“Thank you.” You replied, using his offered hand to help you stand. Something caught your eye. A black, leather wallet was sitting on the ground. You picked it up and opened it. The trainer license inside belonged to the Team Rocket grunt that hit you. You couldn't believe your luck. 

\---

Mr. Fuji had kept you as a guest in his home for three days. Every day he would feed you and your pokémon and check on the progress of your bruises. Every night, you would be in the guest bedroom, sitting with the trainer license in your hand and planning. You had the information memorized now. His name was Marcus Berkley. He had black hair and green eyes (you remembered them clearly). He stood at six feet and three inches. He weighed one hundred and ninety pounds. 

The newspaper that Mr. Fuji brought home on the morning of the fourth day included an extensive article detailing on the increased Team Rocket presence in Celadon City and Saffron City. Saffron City was apparently closing its gates and locking down. 

“I'm leaving today.” You announced. 

“Do you feel up to it?” Mr. Fuji asked, eyeing your visible bruises. They had turned a sickly yellow in color and were marred by a purplish red. Your eye was still swollen, albeit much less than before.

“Yeah. I'm nowhere near as sore as I was. Thank you for all of your help.” 

 

It was time to take off the kiddie gloves. You were going to make Marcus suffer. He was going to suffer for being a Team Rocket member; he was going to suffer for his cruelty towards Pokémon; he was going to suffer for every heinous deed he had ever done. Most importantly, he was going to suffer for what he had done to you. 

You had taken a few days to backtrack towards Celadon City. The city had a reputation for being seedy, with the Game Corner and the Team Rocket Headquarters stationed there, so it was the perfect place to buy supplies. The streets were teeming with Rockets as if they were fleas on a sick growlithe. Your eyes stayed focused ahead, reading addresses that led you deeper and deeper into the ghettos. Pimps, prostitutes, drug addicts, dealers, the homeless, and the working poor stood on street corners, shuffled along the sidewalks, or leered from dingy alleyways. You finally found the place you were looking for. It was a squat, brick building with dark tinted windows decorated with graffiti and a flickering neon sign. 

It took you the better part of an hour to find what you were looking for. Your arms were laden with black, opaque bags that you quickly stuffed into your pack. Now for the next order of business: finding a location. Obviously, your plans required secrecy. You’d have to find a quiet, secluded area where there wouldn’t be anyone to see you as well as a way to get there. 

The previous year, you had ended a successful Pokémon League challenge in Hoenn before you ventured out to Kanto to test your mettle. Over the course of your travels in Hoenn, you had caught and raised a Swablu and raised her into an Altaria. She was fast and powerful, and she would undoubtedly be happy to see you again. You walked to the Pokémon Center and swapped out the members of your party to obtain your former team. They were all strong. Team Rocket, especially Marcus, wouldn’t expect a hit like this. 

Altaria flew swiftly. Your arms were wrapped around her neck as she dipped forward, descending in lazy circles to land. The land you were alighting on was on Route 21, a quiet place on the seafront just south of Pallet Town. Pushing your way through the underbrush, you looked for a place to set up a secret base, much like you did back in Hoenn. It took several hours of searching for a suitable location underneath a thicket of bushes and trees tall enough for you to stand under. The walls were completely enclosed, and the “room” was very private, being off the beaten path and containing only a narrow exit. It looked like someone had been here before, but with the patches of grass that were poking out of the dirt, it looked as if the occupant had packed up and hadn’t been back in several months. You eased your pack off your back. It was time to furnish your new space. 

When you had finished, you stepped outside and sat on a folding lounge chair that you had stored in your base PC. Perfect or not, you had to be wary of foot traffic around the area. You sat down, and you waited, biding your time. For several hours, you watched the route ahead of you. Not once did you see a trainer making their way through. You only heard the rustling and cries of the wild Pokémon in the underbrush surrounding you. When the sun was beginning to set, the sky became rosy in hue. Tomorrow you would act. Your plans hinged on Marcus being present in Saffron, but with all of the activity there, you knew that the Rockets were planning something big and they probably needed all available personnel on the job. 

\---

 

Under the cover of the morning sunlight, you began your flight to Saffron. Altaria’s plumage blended into the sky beautifully and no one accosted you or seemed to notice your descent into the city. You slunk around the streets, subtly tailing the Rocket Grunts you saw wandering the streets. Most of them wandered in pairs, but you were fortunate enough to catch one alone. You grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her into an alley before slamming her into a brick wall. She yelped in pain and tried to spin around to strike you, but you were much faster. You grabbed her hair and pushed her face into the mortar. In a flash of red light, you summoned your Blaziken from his pokéball. 

“What are you planning?” You demanded. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She squirmed. You grabbed one of her free wrists as her hands scrabbled at the wall, bringing her arm behind her and pushing against her more tightly. 

“You are in no position to lie.” You chided her. “Tell me why you are here in Saffron.” 

“F- _Fuck_ you! I-I’ll scream!” She threatened. 

You swung her around to face your Blaziken. He made a growling sound low in his throat and his wrists lit up with flame. 

“I’ll ask you one more time. Think _carefully_ about how you answer. Why is Team Rocket in Saffron?” 

“We’re infiltrating Silph Co. We started just a few hours ago-- Please, I don’t know anymore! L-let me go!” She stammered. 

“There’s one more thing I need from you.” 

“What? Just don’t hurt me!” 

“I need you to tell me where Marcus Berkley is.” You tapped the walkie talkie at her belt. “He’s one of you. Make up whatever lie you have to in order to get information on his whereabouts. I want to know _now_.” 

“Okay, okay.” You gave her some space so she could grab the device on her belt, her fingers trembling. Blaziken watched the grunt intently as she contacted just about everyone she could think of. After several minutes of blatant lying on her part, and fearful glances towards you, you finally got your answer. 

“He’s in Silph Co.” She finally answered. “Stationed on the eighth floor.” 

“Get out of my sight.” The grunt nodded and scurried off. 

 

\---

Silph Co. Was in shambles. The employees were being held hostage by grunts and their equipment was trashed. You swept through floor after floor, looking for Marcus. Finally, you found him. He grinned at you when you came across him. 

“Didn’t get enough of me back in Lavender Town?” He purred, giving you a lascivious smile. “I didn’t take you to be a masochist, but I’m sure I can oblige you.” You watched as his tongue swiped across his lips and his green eyes glittered at you. 

“This isn’t going to be the same as before, _Marcus_.” You drawled. 

His eyes widened and he stiffened. You pulled his wallet out of your pocket and wiggled it in front of you tauntingly. After a moment, his lurid grin returned to his face. “Let’s see what you got.” He tossed out a pokéball, releasing a Golbat. You sent out Altaria for the battle. She would be the only one you’d need for this. Altaria knocked away all of his pokémon with no effort. Marcus took a few menacing steps towards you. He must have been confident that you wouldn’t have any dirty tricks up your sleeve. 

“Altaria, sing him a lullaby. He looks _tired_.” 

“You’re going to attack me with--” 

Altaria crooned out a soothing melody, swaying her head on her sinuous neck . Marcus began slumping to the ground as he walked, his eyelids drooping. His mouth went slack and he stumbled. Finally, he fell upon the ground and fell still. You grabbed Marcus by his ankles and dragged him over to a supply closet. It was unlocked, so you pushed him inside. “I’ll be back, Altaria. Keep him asleep and guard the door. There’s still trash to take out.” 

\---

 

True to your word, you expelled Team Rocket from the building. Defeating Giovanni once again was certainly a prize, but the really cherry on top was passed out in the closet three floors below. The president of the company even gave you a Master Ball for your efforts.

“Sir,” you began somewhat hesitantly. “While I was going through, I found someone I knew working as a Team Rocket member.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He apologized. “I’ve heard in the news that the Rockets have been recruiting increasingly large numbers of people your age.” With a worn hand, he stroked his chin. 

“I personally will be taking him away. I’ve had to knock him out and put him into one of your supply closets. Please alert security so I don’t get into any trouble and allow me to have access to your roof so I can fly him away more easily.” 

“Alright, miss.” He agreed. “We at the company owe you a great deal. I hope you will be able to turn around his way of thinking.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

\---

 

It was no easy task to pull Marcus’s dead weight over to the elevator and along the roof. Altaria waited for you patiently as you took the time to remove his pokéball belt and gloves and cuff him with leather straps and then secure him to her back. The combined weight of you and Marcus would be too much for her to be able to fly. You unclipped a second ball from your belt and released a Salamence. You straddled his broad back and ordered your two pokémon to take off, Altaria leading the way to your secret base. 

The ride was quick and uneventful. Marcus didn’t wake up during the flight or the smooth landing, and you almost felt sorry about how exhausted he must have been to sleep so deeply. Almost. You untied Marcus from your Altaria and returned her and Salamence to their balls before hefting your captive inside. You deposited him onto the floor on top of your blue rug that was covered in a pile of cushions. There was an LED light inside the room sitting on top of a desk. It cast a dim yellow hue that barely lit up the space on its own. The perimeter of the room was strung with white fairy lights, giving your base an almost dreamlike quality. 

Your eyes flickered towards him, studying him. His green eyes were closed and he looked peaceful. His black hair was swept away from his face and some of it was tucked under his cap. You pulled it off and tousled his medium length hair with your fingers. It was feathery soft and sleek like oil. You took a bent arch of steel off of your desktop and drove it into the dirt floor over the handcuff chains with the steady swings of a rubber mallet, effectively binding Marcus to the floor. You tested its strength. He would not be able to raise himself off the floor until you unbound his cuffs. 

After rummaging for a moment in the opaque, black bag, you pulled out the set of ankle cuffs and a spreader bar. Since Altaria was no longer crooning her lullaby to Marcus, you knew you had to work quickly before he would awaken. You stripped him of his boots and socks and bound his legs to the floor like you did with his wrists. His stretched out body was much longer than the diameter of your blue rug. Finally, you pulled off your own shoes and socks, sitting cross-legged on a cushion. You waited. 

After another twenty minutes, you watched as Marcus blinked himself awake with bleary eyes. He tried to move his arms. His eyes popped open when he was met with resistance. “What have you done to me?” He demanded, struggling uselessly against his bonds. 

“Oh, you know. Payback.” You smiled, standing up from your position next to him. 

“I _never_ did this to you. All I did was--” 

“Beat me,” you began, listing off with your fingers, “joined Team Rocket, stole pokémon, abused pokémon, poached pokémon, and probably much more. You're a real piece of _shit_ , you know that?”

You watched as an odd expression settled over his features. His green eyes widened and his brows drew up. “What are you going to do to me?”

You gave him a noncommittal hum and walked over to your desk to pull out a ball gag in its plastic packaging still. You pulled your utility knife from your pocket and flicked open the blade, making sure Marcus got a good look at it before you began to pry open the case. You kneeled and dangled it before his eyes. He used the moment to spit into your face. 

It didn't faze you at all. “Is that wise?” You asked, lightly skimming the blade of your knife along the side of his face before lightly digging the point into his neck.

“You _wouldn't_ \--”

He yelled in pain as you scored the flesh underneath his jaw. You needed to show him that you meant business. Blood trickled freely down his neck. You wiped off his spit with the collar of your shirt and the blood on his.

“Strike one.” You admonished. “Are you going to behave?”

“You're crazy!” He thrashed on the ground, trying to dislodge the steel keeping him in place. It held firm. 

“Strike two.” You brought the butt of your knife down on his eye. He cried out and stilled. Marcus's green eyes narrowed and glared at you with a fiery hatred. “Open.” You commanded, pressing the ball gag to his lips. He begrudgingly complied. He took the red rubber ball into his mouth and you fastened it around his head. 

Looking down at Marcus, you supposed he was handsome. He was tall and lean and despite the hatred being thrown your way, his eyes were quite beautiful. 

You pulled out your utility knife again and grabbed his shirt and untucked it from his waistband to stick the knife up against the fabric. He offered no resistance as you cut a line down the middle, ruining it. You exposed his chest to the balmy air. The skin on his upper arm was decorated with a stylized Arbok flaring its hood and baring its fangs. 

You saw fear in him. This only spurred you on. 

“Don't dish out what you can't take.” You growled, kicking him hard in the ribs. 

Marcus let out a cry that was muffled by the gag. His chest was heaving. 

“Still think I'm a _masochist_?” You taunted, getting down to straddle his hips. He glared at you, his emerald eyes blazing. You brushed some of the black bangs that fell into his eyes. The touch was mockingly gentle, and Marcus recoiled. “Keep looking at me like that. I like it. Must've been how _I_ looked when you gave me _this_.” You gestured to your bruised eye. 

You sat atop him for a moment, pondering your next move. Idly, your fingers traced in small circles around his navel. It was an oddly intimate position that the two of you were in. You wondered just how pretty Marcus's pale skin would be with bruises blooming across his chest and arms. 

“Would you like to match?” You smiled, lifting up the hem of your shirt to reveal the dark splotches along your stomach. Marcus’s eyes widened. That was all the warning he got before you slammed your fists down into his abdomen. He grunted, arching upwards. 

“Aww, _Marcus_ , it’s ok.” You cooed, putting your hand under his chin. “Give it a while, and the sting will go away.” When you pulled your hand away, you noticed his blood staining your fingertips. “I’m going to take the gag out for a bit, and I'm going to let you talk. Remember you’re at two strikes. We don't want to see what happens at strike three, _do we_?” 

Marcus hesitated a moment and shook his head.

“Good.” You reached behind him and unbuckled the gag and pulled it out of his mouth. You noted the string of drool trailing after it with amusement as you put it aside. 

“Get off of me.” Marcus growled as he clenched his hands above his head.

“I’m pretty comfy. I don’t think I will.” You raised your eyebrows, as if daring him to protest. “Now,” Your hands trailed from his chest down to his red abdomen. “I think you deserve a good deal more than a couple of hits. Something much worse.” 

“What are you going to do?” He asked. Delicious trepidation filled his voice. You licked your lips and you noticed that his eyes followed the movement. 

“Punish you.” You slid further down his legs and unzipped his pants and unbuttoned the fly. 

“Wh-what are you doing?!” He demanded, squirming under your touch. 

“Be a good boy and hold still, or you’re getting your third strike.” He stilled, but you could feel his legs give a little tremble. You hooked your fingers around his waistband and pulled down his pants and boxers in one fluid movement so that they pooled around his ankles. Marcus was completely bare beneath you. Your fingertips lightly brushed down the planes of his pelvis and along the “V” of his hips. Teasingly, you stroked a line from the base to the tip of his shaft and you could see his cock beginning to flush with need. 

Marcus swore and gritted his teeth, his eyes boring holes into you as you openly fondled him. 

“You like to pick on powerless people. How does it feel to be powerless yourself? It seems like you like it… so far.” 

“Fuck you.” He groaned, his head lolling back as you began to stroke his member. You watched his fists clench and his toes curl. 

You paused to grab your black bag, rummaging around for a moment before you pulled out a loop of metal that you slid around his dick. Marcus gasped at the cold cock ring touching him, and his back arched up. 

“Look at me.” You commanded, once it was in place. 

Marcus squeezed his eyes shut and looked somewhere just to the side of your face. 

“I said look at _me_.” Your hand snapped out in an instant, slapping the sensitive organ. 

The reaction was immediate. He groaned and try to curl inwards to better protect himself, but he couldn’t. 

“You fucking _cunt_.” He rasped. 

“Your eyes are beautiful like that.” You said offhandedly. His green eyes blazed with fury. You saw his tense muscles underneath his skin; there were cords of arteries and veins; his mouth was set into a snarl. He was primal, he was savage, he was beautiful. You wanted to taste some of his fighting spirit. 

He seemed stunned into silence and his eyes never left yours as your hands gripped his hips, your fingers digging into the soft flesh. You leaned downwards to trail your lips across his chest, further down to tongue at his nipples, further down to bite the skin of his stomach and he let out a sound that you couldn’t place as either one of pain or pleasure. You felt him throb against you and you realized that you were throbbing, too. 

You could feel how wet you were and how ready you were to impale yourself upon him. You tried to hide your impatience, being sure to make measured movements to undress yourself, so as to not seem eager. Marcus would not be getting that satisfaction. Painfully slowly to you, you removed your shirt and unclasped your bra. He was watching you with unabashed interest. His cock was flushed with need. 

“Kinky _bitch_.” His length dipped with another throb. 

You ignored him, taking your time to step out of your pants and panties, reveling in his ogling. Spreading your legs, you straddled him in such a way so that your slit was flush with his cock. You humped against him to frot, your clit rubbing against his shaft. He watched as you let out a soft sigh every time you passed along the metal bump of the cock ring. 

Marcus growled and bucked his hips against you, unsatisfied with how little friction he was receiving. You couldn’t blame him. His dick was swollen with blood and made super sensitive by the cock ring and soon he’d be begging to come. You were impatient yourself, sliding yourself forward and back in such a way so that you could have him slide in up to the hilt. Making a pleased sound, you leaned over his chest. His eyes were fixed upon your face as you rocked on top of him. He’d grunt occasionally, and you would too when he rubbed up against just the right spot. The base was quiet, save for the sounds of your rutting. Marcus would try to move his hips with you, but he was effectively held down by your restraints. You used him as a living dildo, fucking yourself upon him, not caring for his pleasure. This lasted for several minutes until your pace slowed. You were getting closer, but the pole inside of you alone wasn’t enough to give you the push you needed. He watched intently as you stroked your clit and leaned back, continuing to subtly rock his hips. Finally, you had enough and you came atop him, letting out a breathy moan as your walls rippled and constricted around him, squeezing him in such a way that his eyelids fluttered closed for a moment.

Satisfied, you stood up, shuddering slightly at the feeling of being emptied. You began putting your clothes back on, casting a sly glance towards Marcus. He was lying with his mouth slack in disbelief. “You’re just going to leave me like this?” He asked, jutting his chin towards his desperate erection. 

“I said you were being punished.” You replied nonchalantly, not pausing to look at him. 

Marcus let out an indignant huff before sinking back down to the floor. 

“But I want to come.” He protested. 

“Sucks for you.”


	2. Let's Make a Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to write a second part to this. The naughty bits are consensual, and Marcus ended up turning into more of his own character rather than just a generic Rocket Grunt. Also, money comes up. The way I think of it is that 1 Yen = 1 Poké, so 15000 Poké would be about $140 USD.

When you finally uncuffed Marcus’s hands and ankles that day, he immediately gave you a hopeful look, which quickly deflated it was clear that you had no interest in touching him further. He had grumbled and leaned back on your pile of cushions, slipping off his cock ring and grinning at you lewdly. He then proceeded to masturbate in front of you as obnoxiously as he could, being sure to moan and swear. You had rolled your eyes at him and sat at the desk behind him, pretending to ignore him. When he came, he made sure to gasp and twitch and make a mess on your floor that he didn’t bother to clean up before he got dressed. He left his ruined team rocket shirt on the dirt and you gave him his wallet, gloves, and pokémon and promptly kicked him out after telling him where he was. 

You disdainfully cleaned the semen off your blue rug and contemplated what your next move would be. Smiling wryly, you picked up Marcus’s ruined shirt from the floor. It made a great trophy, not dissimilar to men keeping women’s panties as mementos of their conquests. Marcus may have been a notch in your belt, but he was far from conquered. You doubted you could ever subdue the defiant light in his eyes, but you hoped for another chance to see him writhing underneath you.

\---

You had swapped out your former Hoenn team for the Kanto pokémon you had been training the day after the ordeal in Saffron, and you had begun to train them again. After a week of practice, you felt confident enough to resume your gym challenge. You traveled from city to city and collected badge after badge, adhering to your training regimen as you did. Finally, you stood before the doors of the Viridian City Gym. Giovanni was behind the doors and he wouldn’t be going easy on you this time. Taking a deep breath, you went through your mental checklist. You had full heals; you had seen them earlier in the day. With one hundred percent certainty, you knew you had revives. Did you have potions? Hadn’t you used the last of them?

You pulled your pack off of your back and rummaged through the pockets, trying to find your stock of Max Potions-- there was no way you’d go in there without them. Sighing with frustration, you trudged your way over to the Pokémart. The clerk behind the counter was busy helping a little girl with a rattata cradled in her arms. You did a double-take, watching as he distractedly ran a hand through his black hair. Your lips curled into a wolfish grin. It was Marcus, and you had no doubt about it. Ducking behind a shelf, you weighed your options. Ignoring him wasn’t an option-- you wouldn’t let it be an option. You decided to approach him directly to gauge his reaction and see where it would take you. Worrying your bottom lip, you grabbed an armful of Max Potions off the shelf and waited patiently behind the little girl. 

Finally, the little girl stopped rambling and she grabbed her bags and flounced out of the door, leaving just you and Marcus. Finally, he looked up at you. An indecipherable expression crossed his face. He seemed annoyed, but the corner of his mouth tilted upwards just slightly with... amusement? You couldn’t tell. 

“Hi.” You greeted him lamely.

“Hey.” He scanned one of your potions and began keying in something on the cash register. 

“For how long have you been working here?” 

“This establishment is owned by… well, y’know.” He gave you a weak smile, nervously tugging on the blue apron he wore over his uniform. He looked ill at ease. 

“You’re more confident in your black uniform.” You commented, leaning forward on the counter. Marcus eyed you for a moment, and you realized that leaning forward like you were gave him a generous eyeful of cleavage. His eyes snapped to yours and you arched an eyebrow at him, your lips curling into a knowing smirk. “See something interesting?” You purred. 

“ _Yes_.” He seemed to realize what he said then, and you laughed at the flustered expression he made. 

“What’s happened in the last month since I’ve seen you?” You inquired as he motioned to the total on the screen in front of you. You pulled a few bills from your wallet and gave it to him. Marcus gave a thoughtful hum as the register drawer opened and he counted out your change. 

“I’m about to go on my lunch break. Would you like to join me?” 

“It’s a date.” You teased, replacing your wallet and money. 

“You know what?” Marcus began, his voice dipping into a soft growl as he bagged your potions. “The least you could do is buy me lunch, given that you fucked me first.” 

You chuckled, watching the life spark once again in his green eyes. “Alright, alright. I’ll take you out like a proper gentleman.” 

Marcus disappeared into the back for a moment and another clerk was dragged out as you collected your bag. Marcus reappeared without his apron and the two of you walked out side by side as he led you to a Kalosian styled café just a few blocks away. A waitress gave you menus and seated you on the patio at a wrought iron table and chair. A red umbrella served as a parasol to shade you from the sun. It was a delightful summer day. Puffy, billowy clouds floated in the sky and the sun was obscured by one of them. A cool breeze gently ruffled Marcus’s hair. 

After the waitress took down your drink orders, he spoke. 

“I was hoping to see you again, oddly enough. I feel as though I should explain myself.” He continued when he realized that you weren't going to prompt him to speak. “After your--" he hesitated, pursing his lips and taking a glance around “-- _blatant_ sexual assault, I got to thinking.”

“A very dangerous thing to do.” You drawled, steepling your fingers.

He chose to ignore your comment. “You're very strong. Obscenely strong. I want you to train me.”

You felt your lips twitch into a frown before settling your face into a neutral expression. “Why?”

“I want to become stronger. Like you.” Marcus stated simply, as if he were telling you that water was wet or grass is green.

The waitress returned with your drinks and jotted down your orders in her notebook before taking up your menus and scurrying away.

“For one, you beat me up. Two, you're in Team Rocket. Three, I beat you up. Four, I sexually assaulted you. It doesn't seem like we have good chemistry.”

“You were able to put that aside a month ago.” He shot back and took a sip of his black coffee.

A devilish grin curled your lips and you shrugged dismissively. “That was merely payback. And _I_ was the one in _total_ control.”

Marcus's eyes flared, much to your delight. 

“Anyways, I've battled you twice now and your performance was piss poor. Training you properly would take months.”

“The pokémon I used during those battles are standard issue.”

“Even if that is the case, you are still a Team Rocket member.”

“I can quit.”

“Sure.” You snorted derisively.

“I’ve been meaning to for a while. The pay is shit, I got beaten up, I got molested, and to top it all off, I got put on latrine duty for a week because you ruined my uniform.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

Marcus let out an exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are insufferable.”

“I could say the same of you.” You replied, giving him a leering grin. “Anyways, I don’t get why you’d want me to be your mentor or whatever, given the circumstances.” Idly, you tapped the tabletop before you continued. “Unless you liked me doing that to you or something.” Taking a sip of your drink, you peered over to him. His cheeks flushed hotly, and he glared at you. Marcus’s mouth was pressed into a thin line. “ _Really_?” A bark of laughter escaped from you. “Well, I guess that’s why you never screamed ‘stop.’” You gave him a wink.

“Shut up.” He growled. 

The waitress came back to deliver your orders and silverware wrapped in burgundy napkins. Of course, Marcus wanted to take every advantage of the free lunch he had been given by running up the bill for you and ordering steak tartare. 

“ _Anyways_ , even if I did agree to train you, how would you compensate me for my time? Getting mentored by a League Champion is pricey, you know.” You unrolled your silverware from your napkin and placed your napkin on your lap. 

“I’m sure we can agree on _something_.” Marcus purred. 

“I can’t buy food or supplies with _fucks_.” You replied flatly, cutting into your quiche lorraine. 

He snorted with laughter and scooped up a piece of his meat. “I never said that.” He teased. “I’m hoping we can negotiate something out.”

“When do you get off work?” 

“Six. Why?” 

“If you’re really serious about this--” you pointed your fork at him and narrowed your eyes “-- and I mean, really serious-- that if I take you on, you’re going to quit Team Rocket and you’re gonna come up with a fair wage for me, meet me back on Route 21 at eight. I’m certain you remember where. Bring your real team and bring a friend if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

Marcus nodded as he chewed. You thought you could see the corner of his mouth twisting up.

\---

You didn’t go to your final gym, instead you chose to go to the Viridian City Public Library to research what the typical rates for a mentor of your background was and write up a very detailed contract. Turns out, it was somewhat expensive, just as you thought. Whether or not Team Rocket provided a livable wage to its grunts was dubious. You rubbed your temples and leaned back in your chair. There were still a few hours before your meeting with Marcus.

You trusted Marcus just about as far as you could throw him: not at all. He seemed sincere enough in his request for training, but you weren’t stupid. Marcus could show up with a buddy. Or ten. It wasn’t unreasonable to expect an ambush given that he was quite vindictive. To be honest, you weren’t sure how to handle an ambush other than to fight tooth and nail. You were confident that your current team could handle just about anything, but what if Marcus threw you a curveball? Getting back to your base was now a priority. There could be no surprise attacks. 

Riding on the back of your rapidash made the distance between Viridian and Route 21 melt away and you were standing in front of your secret base in less than an hour. You withdrew him and peeked into your base. It was just as you left it and no one was hiding inside. You cleaned off your desk and chair, shook the dust and debris out of the cushions before placing them on your desk, and you took your blue rug outside. You hung it from the low branch of a nearby tree and found a stick to beat out the dirt. Satisfied that your base was now clean, you arranged it just as it was before. 

Opening your pack, you pulled out the Team Rocket shirt you cut off of Marcus a month ago. You had altered and hemmed it so that it was now a vest that you pulled on over your shirt, figuring you could piss him off before you battled. Besides, it was comfortable and though you were loathe to admit it, you thought it made you look a bit like a badass. 

You had only a couple hours left, so you patrolled a wide area around your base, nervous to see any large group of people. There was no one. You felt more jittery and anxious the more time you spent outside. Marcus would surely set something up on you, wouldn’t he? When there was an hour left, you climbed up into a nearby tree, concealing yourself within the branches. You waited patiently for some time, listening to the sounds of the wilderness around you. The sun was beginning to set, coloring the sky with brilliant pinks and oranges. The shadows grew longer and the forest grew darker. 

Finally, you saw a beam of light piercing through the foliage. Marcus was navigating his way towards your base. A scyther stood with him, and they occasionally cut away any leaves and branches that got in their way. The flashlight beam finally illuminated your base. 

“You came alone.” 

Scyther’s head immediately snapped towards the sound of your voice and you climbed down the tree as nonchalantly as you could. Marcus didn’t comment on it. 

“You want to battle me, right?” He asked. Then he saw your vest and scowled at you as you gave him a taunting grin. 

“In due time.Firstly, I would like to discuss a contract I’ve drafted. Please, come in.” You beckoned him towards the entrance of your base and sat at your large wooden desk. A second chair had been set out across from yours. Marcus recalled his Scyther and followed you. He sat down and leaned forward on the table on his elbows. 

“Let me cut right to the chase.” You began, pulling out several sheets of paper from your pack. “I don’t think you have enough money to afford a mentor, so we’re going to have to work out a deal. One part of it is, as we discussed earlier, that you are to quit Team Rocket.” You passed him a page and you amped up the brightness on your lamp so he could read it better.

“Fifteen thousand Poké a week?” He breathed. 

“Believe me when I tell you that it’s a pittance compared to everyone else’s rates. That’s why money won’t be the _only_ thing you’ll be giving me. This is the second part.” 

He arched an eyebrow and looked up from his paper as you passed him a stapled packet. He read through the first page briefly before looking up. “This is--” 

“A contract for bondage. For as long as you are in my tutelage, you will be subservient to me. As I am providing you with my services, you shall provide _yours_. Of course, there is a safe word. I don’t intend to harm you. Unlike our previous encounter, I will let you come and provide you with aftercare after each session to ensure your well being. I just need to know what lines you will not permit me to cross.”

Marcus was silent, green eyes still skimming through the text. 

“I want you to think on this. If you agree to my terms, we will battle in the morning.”

“You’re not going to do what you did last time?” He finally asked. 

“Punishments will never be that severe. I did that because, as you recall, you punched _me_ first. Anyways, it won’t be rough every time. Just expect it often.”

Marcus nodded, and you could practically hear the gears turning in his head when he gave you a mischievous smile. “Are you willing to let me try it out before I agree to anything?”

“Aren’t _you_ the one that’s supposed to be convincing _me_ to take you in?” You challenged. “Show me how much you want it.”

He tapped the tabletop with his fingertips, as if weighing the options. On the one hand, he could walk out. On the other, he could lose some of his dignity. You arched an eyebrow, waiting for his decision. Finally, Marcus stood up and moved from the table. For a moment, you thought he would walk out, but then he lifted up the bottom of his shirt to unbuckle his belt and place it on the desk. He slid off his sneakers and peeled off his socks. His emerald eyes watched you intently as he unbuttoned his fly and shimmied out of his jeans and black boxers. He removed his shirt, and he was naked before you. To your surprise, he got down on his hands and knees, and then prostrated himself before you on the dirt floor. 

“Please.” He said quietly. 

“Please what?” You asked. 

“Train me. Have your way with me.”

If Marcus was _this_ willing to submit to you, you were definitely going to keep him around. You smirked. He lifted his head slightly, and you could see his eyes blaze in defiance. It would take work to break him in, and that would only be more satisfying. 

“Crawl onto the rug and lay on your back.” 

He did as you commanded and you watched him with a keen eye as he settled down into the cushions. Marcus was lithe with barely defined muscles. When he stretched upwards and arched his back, you could see the divots between his ribs. In your previous encounter, you hadn’t taken the time to admire his form. Everything about him was long. Long arms, long legs, long torso, and a long cock that was proudly erect and flushed red. He was several inches taller than you. You straddled his hips and leaned down towards his face. Marcus placed his hands on your back and tried to bring his mouth towards yours, but you jerked your head away and shrugged off his touch to pin his wrists to either side of his head. 

“Did I say you could touch me?” You growled, narrowing your eyes. 

Marcus’s lips quirked upwards. “No.” He replied. 

You leaned forwards again, your lips trailing from his cheek to down his neck. You felt a vein under his skin pounding steadily against your lips. You took his flesh into your mouth to give him a bite. His breath hitched at the pain, but evened out again when you straightened. He watched as you slid off your vest and discarded your shirt. You reached behind you and unclasped it, taking it off almost tauntingly slowly. Gently, you ground your crotch onto his dick and he hissed. You stood up to remove your own pants and panties, and you could already feel your arousal. Marcus watched with lidded eyes as you straddled his face. He eagerly dove in, his tongue lapping greedily at your slick folds. You leaned forward to give him soft strokes along his shaft. His tongue licked at your clit, tracing pointed circles around it. You fought back a gasp, but your fingers clenched. Marcus was being so good, so you figured you’d reward him. 

You leaned forwards more and his fingers wrapped around your thighs so he could continue his ministrations. Your tongue darted out of your mouth to lick around the tip of Marcus’s cock. You felt him shudder underneath you and you felt him throb in your hand as your tongue laved the dusky flesh. He licked you with a renewed vigor when you took him more fully into your mouth. Your cheeks hollowed slightly around his length as you sucked and bobbed your mouth along his member. A groan escaped your throat as his tongue swiped across a particularly sensitive spot. Marcus gasped as the vibrations reverberated around him. 

Your attention never wavered as you sucked and bobbed, his hips twitching occasionally as he made breathy moans against your pussy. Finally, he couldn’t seem to handle it anymore, and he was gasping insensibly “Please, please fuck me. Please, please, please…”

With a soft pop, he exited your lips and you almost laughed. Either his stamina could use some work, or he thought you were just _that_ good. You got up and turned yourself, your slick heat planted to rub against his shaft. You almost idly rubbed your clit along his length. 

“Please, _what_?” You prompted. 

His lips were a small “o” and his eyes were lidded in pleasure. You stopped moving against him, and his mouth floundered as his mind tried to grasp what you were asking of him. 

“Please, _mistress_.” He finally begged. 

“Only because you’ve been such a _good boy_.” You praised, angling yourself to take the entirety of his shaft in one downward push. Sitting still, you kept him sheathed inside you as your fingers deftly rubbed against your clit. Marcus let out a low sound as he watched, but you paid him no mind. You brought yourself closer to climax before leisurely riding him, his cock scratching your itch just right. Your eyes met his as he watched your lewd display, and your exhibitionism only brought you closer to your climax. What sent you over was hearing a low, gravelly moan from underneath you. You gasped and your inner muscles twitched and spasmed. Your eyes fluttered shut as you slid up and down against him in fast, shallow, strokes. Your muscles gripped his length as you fucked him through your climax, making it last longer. Marcus was grunting, his brows furrowed as you bounced on his cock. His back arched and he came, shuddering and panting for breath as your pussy milked out every last drop of his hot seed. 

Finally, the two of you stilled. His chest was slick with sweat as you got off of him. You sat next to him, still coming down from your high and basking in the afterglow. Marcus laid a hand on your thigh, and you arched an eyebrow at him. 

“That was pretty vanilla.” He remarked. 

“You haven’t filled out the contract yet. I don’t know what you like.” You reminded him, shrugging and reclining upon your mountain of cushions. “Did you not like it?” 

“I think it’s pretty obvious whether or not I liked it.” He replied wryly. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes more until he spoke again. “What do you do for aftercare?” 

“Depends on what we do.” You shrugged. 

“What would you do for now?” 

“What we just did hardly warrants any aftercare.” You scoffed. 

“Humor me.” He replied simply. 

You rolled your eyes at him and sat cross-legged, plopping an especially large and plush red cushion onto your lap. When you had situated yourself, you patted it. Marcus took the invitation to lay with his head resting on the cushion. You ran your fingers through his silky black hair and gently rubbed his scalp. Marcus let out a quiet sigh of contentment. His head turned to you, and you scrutinized him. You could see mischief in his eyes, as if daring you to say anything. He didn’t mind your casual nudity, and he made no effort to cover himself. 

“I could stay like this for a while.” He purred. 

“I bet.” You grumbled. 

“I think I will.” 

You let out a sigh of feigned annoyance and continued to stroke his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, bookmarks, and constructive criticism are all appreciated! Tell me what you liked and what you didn't.


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